May December Blues
by Javanyet
Summary: Chico and the Man real world AU. The trouble with May December romance is that sometimes May tends to act its age. Rated for language and bit of barroom violence.


When Freddie came in the door he scooped Molly up and carried her to the sofa. He laid her down in his arms and hugged her close humming a random tune.

"I have a song too," she told him.

"Okay. I didn't know you like to sing. Go ahead."

So she lay back in his arms and sang quietly, an old Irish lullaby, just for him.

"What a pretty voice. You should use it more often."

Boy, was he was exaggerating. She could carry a tune, barely, but she appreciated the polite fib.

"I did, just once. New Year's Eve at the Blue Parrot, I got kinda tanked and people were getting up and singing with the bar band, so I did too. It was pretty bad, I think, but I had fun. But Reggie didn't like it, so he made me stop after one song."

Freddie lifted her up against him in a tight hug. "That stinks. I think it's been a long time since you just went and hung out, hasn't it?"

It bothered him a lot when she told him things like this, so she tried not to do it too often. He knew she'd had a hard and painful time, that was enough. But sometimes things just slipped out, he listened so well and wanted to know about her, so things came out she hadn't intended to tell him.

"So how long you gonna be hanging around to make me feel better?"

"I dunno, how long you got?" He tried to find a ticklish spot in her side, but failed. "Wendy gonna help you look for a place?"

"Yeah, on Thursday. I don't have to go to the studio for taping, Jimmy has nothing new for me. So I'm taking the day to apartment hunt with Wendy. I've been prowling the papers for good prospects."

"There's a place open in my building."

"Bullshit."

"No, really, third floor back. No fancy view but a nice one bedroom."

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" He tried to smile innocently, but it didn't work. "Nope, too close to work," Molly declared. "And too goddamn expensive! No, I'll take something modest outside of Hollywood."

"Modest? That doesn't sound like you." He tickled just above her hip, which made her squirm. "Aha, there's the spot."

They didn't say anything for a while. "Y'know, I think you're right," she said, breaking the silence.

"I'm always right. About which thing?"

"About hanging out. Maybe I'll try it again."

"How about Friday? Maybe some of the crew and Scat and Jack might wanna come."

It occurred to her that the only friends she had now were her coworkers, and Wendy. She could hardly remember when she had any kind of circle of friends to hang with.

"Y'know that sounds nice. Some music, a few beers..."

"And maybe you'll get drunk enough to sing again?"

"Don't bet on it," she told him, and grabbed deep into his hair to pull his mouth to hers. Seized by a silly impulse, she cooed in a falsetto, "Ooh, _do_ me Chico!"

Not at all amused, Freddie shoved her upright. "Uh-uh. _Never_. That's not funny, not even a little."

She was shaken by his anger. "Sorry, really. I was just making a lame joke."

He strode to his feet and looked down at Molly where she sat. He wanted to say something but decided against it, instead throwing up his hand in frustration.

Something in his face, in the way she saw his hand go up, triggered an old reflex-memory in Molly and she shrank back.

"No, _don't_," she said hastily, "I didn't _mean_ anything… Reggie, really I didn't."

_"Reggie_?"

_Oh no,_ she thought in a panic, _now he's really gonna be pissed_.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry Freddie, please." He leaned down toward her, and she ducked away again, fists clenched in her lap.

"_Please_," she whispered.

He sat next to her, not touching her, looking at her in confusion.

"'Reggie'?" he repeated in a gentler voice. "Molly, what are you thinking? What are you _thinking_?"

She fell into a fit of trembling, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, really, I know who you are, Freddie, you're Freddie."

He took her hands lightly, spread the fists open by stroking his thumbs along the backs. "Molly, calm down, it's okay. It's me, not Reggie, you know that. I didn't mean to scare you." He was keeping his voice low and calm, but she didn't seem to be focusing on it too well. "Molly, you having some kinda flashback or something?" She nodded tightly. "Okay, it's okay, I understand." It wasn't working. "Look, you want me to go?**"**

Finally she looked him in the eye, a little sideways, and nodded, but as if she were afraid of his reaction.

"If you're sure, I'll do whatever you want."

"Yeah," she said in a timid voice, "is that okay?"

He brushed the hair away from her face. "Of course it's okay. Whatever you want is okay." He stepped up and back as if he realized what had set her off, his anger and looming over her like that. As he backed to the door he told her again, "Whatever you want is okay. But are you gonna be all right?" This scene was completely out of his depth.

She nodded, and said "Wendy, I'll call Wendy. I'll be okay."

His hand was on the door handle but he seemed unsure. "Are you _sure_ you'll be okay? Will you call me if you can't find Wendy?"

She shrugged painfully. _Maybe_. Maybe would have to do.

"Okay, but I'm gonna call later to make sure."

She nodded and he left quietly. Molly rushed to the door and locked it, then grabbed for the phone and dialed Wendy's number.

"Wen?" she whispered when her friend answered.

"Yeah Molly, what's up?"

"Wendy I need to see you." She knew Wendy could hear the shaking in her voice.

"Having a bad night?"

"I think maybe..."

"Okay I'll be right over. You hang tight now."

* * *

Molly had had flashbacks and nightmares since she left Reggie, and his belting her when she went back to what she thought was the empty apartment hadn't helped. She'd moved out more than a month ago but went to get some stuff a couple weeks back, and he clobbered her when she went in the door. That was the last time. That's when she charged him with assault and got the protection order, and the court said Reggie had to clear out when she said she was coming over. Everything was in his name, so she wound up homeless and he got the apartment. She didn't care as long as she was out of it. Wendy had been there through all of it. A late-thirties blonde with a quick wit and a job tending bar where Molly used to hang out, she had been a solid backup for every sort of hell Molly had been through with Reggie. Nobody was gladder or more relieved when she finally left him. She was familiar with Molly's job and had even come to see a couple of tapings, referring to Freddie as the "hunk-a-Rican", a phrase she picked up from a tabloid story. Wendy never expressed any interest in getting to know any of the people her friend worked with. That was Molly's profession, not hers. She saw her share of stars but they were on the other side of the bar and she'd ceased being impressed a long time ago.

* * *

By and by there was a soft knock at the door. "Molly? Honey it's me. Let me in."

As Molly went to the door she realized she couldn't tell Wendy how this happened because then she'd have to tell her about Freddie and she didn't think she could do that right now, not yet. She unlocked the door and Wendy greeted her with a tight hug, then stepped back to look at her.

"Still bad, or a little better?"

"Getting better. But thanks for coming. I'm still a little shaky."

"What brought it on?" Wendy wanted to know.

"I dunno," Molly lied.

"That's okay, those things don't always follow logic, do they?" They sat down on the sofa, and Wendy shifted to Mothering Mode. "Hey no wonder you're shivering, the a/c is blasting and you don't have your slippers on. Where are they?"

"Under the edge of the bed."

Wendy disappeared into the bedroom and in a few seconds Molly heard her squeal "Shit! Ow! What is this in the rug?" She came out of the bedroom with slippers in one hand and examining something closely in her other hand. "What is this? It looks like a pearl shirt stud." Her eyebrows went up. "Well honey, have you been dating a maitre d' and not telling me, or what?" Molly cast about for another lie, but was still too close to her earlier panic to come up with one on such short notice. The struggle was written all over her face.

"You been to a formal lately?" her friend persisted.

Without thinking, Molly muttered, "Just the Emmy's..."

"But you went to that with Freddie…" Wendy's mouth dropped open. "Is this _Freddie's_?"

Molly squirmed. She still couldn't think of a plausible explanation.

Wendy plopped down on the sofa, still staring at the stud that Molly thought Freddie had only been kidding about. "You didn't _sleep_ with that kid, did you?" Molly's silence said it all. "Holy shit! He's a _baby_!"

Molly finally found her voice. "Yeah, I'm a pervert and a cradle-snatcher. All the things I've been calling myself since Sunday night. But he's come here every night since then. It hasn't interfered with work, and we've never, ah, done it at his place. That's my office, after all."

"But Molly, honey, _really_. He's hot as hell, but come on! You _work_ for him. Well for Komack anyway."

"It's not like that. He was so good to me, so sweet that night, I was so lost and messed up. It just happened."

"Bullshit. Things 'just happen' in the movies."

Molly felt stricken. How could she make Wendy understand it wasn't about that usual groupie shit? But Wendy already seemed to be relenting a little.

"Okay, honey, okay. I know you better than to think you just grabbed his famous ass because it was there. And god knows after what you've just been through you're not gonna be looking for a recreational screw. So I guess this has to be more than that." She paused, and pleaded, "_Please_ tell me it's more than that or I will be very worried about you."

"It is."

Wendy sighed with relief. "Okay. Then that's that. Just answer me this: is he good to you?"

"Yeah. Wendy you know we've been working together more than two years, and in that time we've really gotten to known each other. He's _always_ been good to me, he's listened and understood what's been happening to me, or as much as he _can_ understand. He's done everything he knows how to do, to be good to me."

Wendy absorbed this. Then she asked, knowing too well what Molly had been through with Reggie, "And is he 'nice' to you in bed?"

Molly took a deep breath before she answered. "I'm gonna sound like some sappy kid, but... he acts as if every time he touches me he wants to fix every hurt I ever had. He holds me and tells me I'm gonna be okay. I _believe_ him, Wendy, I do."

Wendy reached out and took her hands. "Okay, hon, I get it. And forgetting for the moment this could blow your career out of the water while reinforcing his image as a ladies' man, I'd say this. If he treats you right, hang on with both hands. If he's that good to you, if he helps you feel safe and strong, hang onto him and fuck the birth certificate. But if he hurts you, even a little, I'll geld that hunk-a-Rican motherfucker with my bare hands. So tell me what happened tonight?"

Molly explained, careful to tell Wendy it wasn't really Freddie's fault.

"So, did he fall all over himself with 'I'm sorry', like it was all about him and getting forgiven?" Wendy asked tartly. Molly shook her head.

"No. He asked me what I wanted, did I want to be alone, but who should I call, and would I call him if I couldn't reach you. I could tell he was really shocked, but he kept saying whatever I wanted was okay. I think it was hard for him to leave, but he did."

Just then the phone rang, and Wendy reached for it. "O'Rourke and Maginty, wild women at large. Who the hell is calling at this hour?" She was silent for a minute then handed the phone to Molly. "Hunk-a-Rican," she whispered.

"Hi." Molly couldn't keep the awkwardness from her voice, but Freddie did pretty well at sounding normal. Then again, he _was_ an actor.

_"So Wendy's there with you. You sound better. You feeling okay?" _

"Yeah, lots better. Sorry I threw you out like that."

_"That's okay, I was way over my head anyway. I'm glad you got a friend who isn't. So I just called to make sure you were okay. I have an early script meeting tomorrow before rehearsal. See you at the office after. Get some sleep. Is Wendy gonna stay with you? Is it good for you to be all alone right now?"_

"Yeah Wendy will stay, right?" Wendy was nodding, and pointing to the bag she'd brought that Molly didn't notice earlier. "Really, I'll be fine. I swear, it wasn't your fault."

"Yeah I know whose fault it really is, but I don't wanna scare you like that ever again even by accident. You looked like you were in another whole world, a parallel universe or something. Well get some sleep," he repeated. "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, Freddie, tomorrow. Thanks for calling."

"The kid's pretty sharp, isn't he?" Wendy asked when Molly had hung up.

"Yeah he is. Sometimes I forget he's only just over twenty-one, you know? Like a thirty year old in the body of a twenty-three year old."

"Well it's a _nice_ body, now that you mention it. I'm glad you found somebody you feel safe with like this, who you trust, I don't care how young he is."

"Neither do I. Not much, anyway."

They got ready to sleep and shared the bed as they had on occasions when Molly had fled to Wendy's small apartment in East Hollywood. Molly got to sleep surprisingly fast, with no bad dreams to disturb her.

* * *

The following Friday some of the cast and crew were going to gather at the Blue Parrot, like Freddie had suggested. It was a bit of a celebration, as Molly had found a perfect one-bedroom apartment not too far from work but just far enough. It would be available in two weeks, and she was very happy about the prospect of moving out of the hotel. Wendy was beside herself with excitement about Molly having a night out just to have fun. It had gotten so Reggie didn't even want to go there anymore, because he hated Wendy so much. He hated anybody who encouraged Molly in anything at all. So it was something of a reunion when she strolled in at six-thirty. Freddie had tried to get everyone he could from the set; Jimmy couldn't make it because of a meeting but Jack, Scat, and various crew members were due in after the taping was done at seven.

At seven-thirty Freddie came in with the 'Chico' posse, just Jack and Scat and some of the grips who liked good rock and funky disco. The band was rolling and miracle of miracles, Molly felt like dancing. She grabbed Freddie's hand and dragged him onto the floor, the good music and good company overtaking the bad memories, and by the second chorus she shut her eyes, threw back her head, and howled like a wolf.

She'd already forgotten what a good dancer Freddie was but was soon reminded. In seconds they were spinning and stepping and she had to tell him, "Not too close, for christsake, and watch what you're grabbing!" as his hands slid dangerously south. He laughed and spun her so fast her hair flew out behind her. The band went into the fade and she had to drag him to a stop. She glanced toward the bar and saw Wendy give her the thumbs up.

When they were back at the table Freddie called the waitress over. "Get my hard working, hard partying assistant here whatever she wants." Molly hesitated, not being much of a drinker and remembering her trouble with the champagne.

"I'll have a draft, thanks. _Small_." She was preoccupied with reminding herself to call Freddie by his given name; Wendy and Jack were the only ones who knew about "Carlito" and it was best not to have to answer too many questions. Everybody knew Freddie called her _bonita_ or Molly. No big deal, he was the "boss" after all. As she was sipping her beer she noticed Wendy, together with the bouncer, in a confrontation at the door. Then Wendy got pushed back a step, and Molly saw who the bouncer was pulling back toward the door.

_Reggie_.

Molly lost her grip on the beer and though the mug slammed the table she swallowed her gasp and tried to keep the conversation going. No dice. Freddie followed the gaze she couldn't control, and saw Wendy and the bouncer struggling with Reggie.

"That's him," Freddie growled, glancing at Molly's panicked eyes. "That's _him_, isn't it?" She didn't answer, just put a hand on his arm but couldn't think of what to say.

Freddie leapt to his feet and screamed toward the door, "Hey motherfucker, what are you doing here with civilized humans?"

Reggie had already recognized him and was bellowing, "Hey TV boy, Emmy boy, fucking Puerto Rican pussy, how long she gonna hide behind you and your friends, huh?"

In seconds the shouted obscenities were overlapping, almost drowning out the bar noise.

By now Molly was up and hanging onto Freddie's arm but he shook her off with little effort. She looked desperately at the rest of the guys and begged, "_Help_ me here!" and they figured out they'd better get involved.

But Freddie was halfway to the door before his friends were on him, dragging him back. He couldn't break away from their combined strength, but he continued to scream toward the door, "You wanna piece of me, asshole? Or do you just get off on beating up women, huh? Come on, call me a pussy, who is it who beats up on women, huh? You like to beat up on women, how do you take on a man, _pendejo_?"

A couple of other patrons helped to drag Freddie back to the table but couldn't get him in his seat. The chair went over, the table was tipped, Molly was in his face shouting "Freddie, _stop_, you're not helping, _please stop_!" He was still raging past her at Reggie, hollering, "Come on, be a man, I'll kick your fucking pussy ass!"

Then the cops arrived, and Wendy was telling them who the troublemaker was, and about the protection order against him. Molly always carried a copy on her just in case, but who knew if it would stick since this was a public place and he hadn't gotten that close to her. They'd have to prove he came looking for her. Molly had suspected Reggie may have been following her from time to time, but that would be impossible to prove. Right now she was concentrating on trying to subdue Freddie so he wouldn't end up in cuffs too, and on the front page in the morning. The guys had him pinned to the floor by now, and she was half-straddling his chest, begging him to stop and stay out of it. Jack was by his head, telling him to knock it off and grow up and let the cops handle it.

Freddie broke free of the four crew guys and threw Molly off. She landed in a heap about three feet away under a nearby table, but not before hitting her face on the side of a chair.

"FREDDIE!" Jack shouted, and was down on the floor checking Molly. She had a small cut on her cheek already starting to bleed, and was holding her face and wailing, "Stop him, please, make him _stop_!"

Scat got right in Freddie's path, "Stupid punk, look what you did to her, man!" He was half Freddie's weight and six inches shorter, not to mention more that twice his age, which is probably what held Freddie back from just shoving him aside. "Look!" the older man repeated.

When Freddie turned and saw Jack helping Molly to her feet, looking for a napkin to wipe at the blood on her face, it hit him like a bucket of cold water. But when he tried to go to her, Jack put out a hand to keep him away. "Just sit down and shut up kid, get a hold of yourself. You've done enough."

Molly was almost hysterical, shaking and crying.

Wendy appeared out of nowhere and crouched by Molly''s chair. "Honey, take a breath, it's okay, they took him away, he's gone now. I told them about the protection order, they'll see the copy on file at the station, they got him for disorderly conduct and resisting arrest." She had a wet towel in her hand and dabbed at the cut on Molly's left cheekbone. "Well you're gonna have a new battle scar to match the old one," she joked drily. Molly looked dazed, so she added, "You hit your head, you know where you are and everything? Look at me, Molly, look at me and tell me where you are."

She nodded hazily and looked Wendy in the eye and said, "I'm in the bar, and was dancing, and then, then," she looked in terror toward the door, "_Reggie_ came, he came to _find_ me, Wen…"

Wendy took Molly's face in her hands and forced her to focus, "He's _gone_ honey, the cops took him, he's in jail and you're okay." She cut an evil look at Freddie, who was seated nearby looking horrified. "Well _mostly_ okay, anyway, you're gonna have quite a shiner I think. Your first night out in ages, trust you to get in a brawl." She hugged Molly tight, laughing shakily, then rose and leaned over to Jack and asked him, "Can you take care of her for a bit, I have to get coverage so I can leave, okay?"

He nodded and took the towel from her, holding it to Molly's face though the bleeding had stopped. "It's okay, sweetheart," he told her, "you just took a bounce off Freddie."

Wendy paused to stand over Freddie as she was heading toward the bar. "Thanks for nothing. She didn't need this macho showdown, and she _didn't_ need to be flung into the furniture. She got enough of that from _him_," she hissed, jerking her thumb toward the door. He looked up at her, not daring to say a word, and she took off to talk to Joey, the other bartender.

Freddie turned toward Molly and Jack. "Molly, I'm sorry, I'm _so…_"

She cut him off. "_Shut up_, will you?" she snapped. "Why couldn't you just _shut up_?" There were tears mixed with the blood and sweat on her face. "Freddie, why couldn't you just stay _out_ of it?" She bent over her knees, trembling, and jerked the towel away from Jack. "Goddamn _men_, drunk on booze, high on testosterone, why don't you just beat the shit out of _each_ _other_ and leave me _alone_?" When Freddie unwisely reached a hand out to her she slapped it away. "Don't _touch_ me, that's about what _you_ need, go home and forgive yourself, I'm _tired_ of 'I'm sorry', it doesn't mean _anything_!"

Scat was standing at Freddie's shoulder saying, "Come on man, her friend will take care of her, we'd best leave her alone for now." They waited for Wendy to come back to the table. She thanked them for helping, but didn't say a word to Freddie. He'd finally turned to follow the others to the door when Molly called after him, "It was such a great night, Freddie, such a good night after so long, and you just helped wreck it."

Wendy insisted on driving Molly home. "We can sort out your car tomorrow, okay? Take the day off, just call in sick or something. And stay out of the office, okay? You and your little friend need to cool off. You're right, he was more into what he needed than what you did, and he needs some time to think about it. But so do you."

"I don't get it Wendy, he wouldn't _listen_ to me," Molly protested. How could Freddie had been so _stupid_? "I begged him to stay out of it but he wouldn't _listen_."

Her friend shrugged and observed bluntly, "Honey, you _wanted_ a twenty-three year old and that's what you got. No matter how together and grown up he might seem sometimes, he's still a kid. You gotta wake up to the fact he was just acting his age, and I mean the not very pretty parts of it."

"You're not actually _defending_ him for acting like a cave man, are you?"

"I'm just saying if you want him, you gotta take the whole package. He _isn't_ a thirty year old in the body of a twenty-three year old, he's a twenty-three year old with some thirty-year old insights. Get it? He's a kid, sometimes he's gonna _act_ like one. The end."

* * *

When they got to her room at the hotel, they found Freddie sitting on the floor outside her door. He looked like hell, eyes red, a mess. He jumped to his feet when he saw them. "Molly can I talk to you, please, just for a few minutes?" He was talking as much to Wendy as to Molly. "_Please_." He was such a wreck both women took pity on him.

"Okay. A few minutes. Wendy's staying over though. I need her to stay."

"I know. It's a good idea. I won't stay long, I promise."

When they got inside Wendy announced "I'll be in the bedroom. Take your time."

Molly sat on the sofa and Freddie sat in the chair opposite. He held his hands open in front of him, palms up, as if he couldn't imagine how to begin, so Molly started for him.

"Look I know it was an accident. I know you never would have done it on purpose. But Jesus, Freddie, what were you _thinking_? This has nothing, nothing at _all_ to do with you. What the hell made you think you had any business in this? It's my ugly history, not yours. I don't need you to save me from the past, the past is done and I deal with the fallout. It just isn't your fight."

He was shaking his head, whether in disagreement or disbelief it was difficult to tell. "But all the stuff you told me, all the things he did. I saw your face, Molly, I saw the _look_. Like you were going through it all over again in just ten seconds. I don't know what I was thinking." He changed his mind. "Bullshit. Yeah I do absolutely know. I wanted to pound the shit out of him, like he did to you those times you told me about, and those times you didn't have to because I saw the bruises you lied about. I wanted to make him _bleed_ like he made you bleed. I wanted to get payback for you, because of what he did, what he did," and suddenly he was crying, like a little boy who's broken something he's afraid he can't fix. "I didn't mean to _hurt_ you, I'd _never_…"

"Freddie," Molly knelt in front of him, hands on his knees, feeling strangely calm. "Freddie listen to me, okay? You _can't_ get payback for me, done is done. You can listen to me and try to keep my bad dreams away, you can dry my tears and help me know I can get past it and put myself together again. But you can't make him pay. I don't know, maybe he never will. All I know is you can't fix the past. You can help with the present, and maybe the future. But you can't fix the _past_."

He touched her face then, where an ugly bruise already was rising, and asked in a ragged whisper, "How could I do that, do what he did?"

She shushed him, smoothing his hair back and wiping his tears. "Hush, Freddie, it was an accident. Stupid, but an accident. And you listen to me, it was _nothing_ like what he did to me, because he planned every punch. There were no accidents in my life with Reggie." This seemed to upset him more, so she pulled his head to her shoulder and kissed his hair as he wrapped his arms tight around her.

"I just want to make it better, I want to take that look off your face, that look he put there," he cried.

"Ssshh, Carlito please, you _do_, but it's not gonna happen all at once. I'm still gonna crack sometimes, I can't help it. It's not gonna happen as often, or last as long. You've helped me get past it, Jimmy has, Jack and Wendy have. You _all_ do. But you gotta be patient, Carlito… God knows _I've_ had to be. Okay? Be patient. You can't expect five years to evaporate in a few weeks. It's gonna take a while for me to get it together, and you can't freak out every time I backslide, okay? And you _really_ can't freak out if you see him around."

Finally Freddie lifted his head and looked at Molly with red, teary eyes. "I wish I were older. I wish all this made more sense to me, that I could be as patient as you say I need to be. I'm trying. It sucks and it's hard, but I'm trying."

She smiled and kissed his face where the tears were running down. "I know you try. That's good enough for now."

He kissed her once, and again, then on the cheek near the cut, bruised welt. "I can't believe I did that."

"It's okay," she whispered, "it wasn't your fault, not really. Just be patient, and remember you can't change the past. You can't." She smiled a little, and it was painful because she knew what he wanted was impossible: to make it all better. Good times couldn't erase the bad, and even the best intentions couldn't wipe out the past.

When Freddie lifted Molly toward him where he sat she wrapped her arms around him and laid her face against his neck.

"I love when you do that," he whispered to her.

"I know."

After a few minutes he loosened his grip on her and she sat back on her heels. "Better now?" she asked.

Freddie wiped his face with his hands and nodded. "Yeah. Guess I'm one of those sensitive types. I just fall to pieces when I toss a woman on her ass."

"Go figure." She took his face in her hands and kissed him deeply. "Okay then. I'll see you at the office tomorrow, but later than usual, okay? I'm gonna call Jimmy and tell him I'm not feeling well."

As she walked him to the door, Freddie nodded toward the bedroom. "Wendy thinks I'm an asshole. I'm sorry about that."

Molly smiled and shook her head. "She doesn't think you're an asshole. Actually she thinks you're pretty cool. She sees you exactly as you are, and thinks that's all pretty cool. Now do you think you can give up a smile? The one that makes me swoon?"

He made lame attempt, saw her expression, and finally managed to pull it off. He hugged her again at the door. "See you tomorrow. Thanks for letting me in."

"How could I say no to that angel face?" She stood on tiptoe to kiss him a last time. "I could never. G'night, Freddie. Drive careful."

When she heard Freddie leave, Wendy came out of the bedroom. "Wow. That was something. I couldn't help but hear most of it. He is some kind of far gone for you, you sounds like."

"Yeah. I'm heading in that direction too, Wen. It doesn't scare me that much any more. Just a little nervous."

* * *

They were lying in bed, neither one asleep, and Wendy broke the silence. "You miss him, don't you? Just one night, and you miss him."

"Yeah. I do. I mean I _know_ it's better for him not to be here tonight, he'd be more concerned with making it up to me than thinking about it and sorting it out. But when he's here I sleep better, no question."

"What did you do before?"

"It's only been a couple weeks, I don't _remember_. Isn't that crazy?"

"Just crazy enough."


End file.
